Odour de Dixon
by Aownr1669
Summary: Daryl's run-in with a foul-smelling critter leaves him in an uncomfortable position. Rated M for language.  Daryl X OC   COMPLETED
1. Chapter 1

_Ok, you guys. No guessing what's coming! _

_Let's do the disclaimer thing...I don't own or make any claims to the WD characters, but I will take them out of their original packaging and play with them. Benedryl is a nifty trademarked product of McNeil/Johnson&Johnson which allows me to mow the yard and breathe when all the neighbors cut hay...  
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_(odour = Fr., smell, odor, scent...just in case you thought I spelled it wrong)  
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**Odour de Dixon**

**Chapter 1**

You could smell him before you saw him. That was how strong it was. The overpowering sickeningly-sweet gasoline and unidentifiable undertone smell. Unmistakable. Like the heavy scent of pot, once you smelled it, you never forgot and could identify it from a mile off. In this case, a mile off wouldn't have been enough to stop the nauseating stench. Then I heard it. Feet. Running feet. Heavy boots on hard dry earth and tinder-dry grass. Rustling, clanking, heavy breathing, cursing. Running hard. Running fast. Closer and closer.

"Oh, Jesus Christ!" I blurted out, setting the coffee pot back on the grate and standing up. I put my hand up to cover my nose. "Who pissed off the..." I turned around in time to see him running full speed through camp, his Horton bumping wildly on his back, heading straight down the worn path for the wide bend in the deep creek that we'd been using for a bathing area. My jaw dropped as I watched him strip off his shirt, then the grimy brown wife-beater he wore under it, and then start on the buckle of his pants, out of site before they were tossed aside as well. What glimpse of his face I did manage, looked like a combination of assorted muck and dirt , beet red where skin peeked through. His hair was sticking straight up in all directions. "...skunk!" I turned back to camp to see if anybody else had witnessed Daryl Dixon's near-streaking incident. No one else, although Dale stuck his head out of the RV door and asked if anybody else had smelled _that_.

I went to my tent and gathered a couple towels, a bar of that harshest soap I had, and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide out of the box of medical and first aid supplies. I stopped at the clothesline that was sagging with still-damp clothes from the day's wash and picked off a pair of Daryl's work pants and one of his shirts. So easily identifiable. Almost like his own personal uniform. I headed through camp towards the creek, arms loaded, stopping just long enough to pick up the bottle of liquid dish soap off the table next to the plastic basin that served as a makeshift sink.

I hurried down the path and stopped when I saw him standing there. Waist deep in water, shirtless. Pants-less. Thank god the water was dark. Pawing and rubbing at his hair, head, face and neck. Ducking under the water, bobbing up to scrub at his head and neck again, over and over, singly focused on his task and oblivious to my presence. I cleared my throat loudly, my head turned up, mouth screwed up trying not to laugh out loud. He smelled, my God, he literally STUNK.

"Not fuckin' funny." he said. "Fucker was hanging on a tree. Got me right in tha' face 's I walked by."

"Uhm, yeah. That sucks. I brought you some stuff that might help." I took a couple steps closer to the water and stopped. Daryl started to walk towards the edge of the water and then stopped when he realized that, well, he was about to cross a line. "Catch." I said, tossing him the bar of soap. That'll help with the rest of you." I gestured at his chest and...further down. "You're gonna need to wash your hair with dish soap and rise it with peroxide. That'll help with get the skunk oil out of your hair."

"Ain't puttin' no p'roxide on my hair." he said firmly. "Turn it...lighter."

"What, you mean dye it? Blonde?" I giggled. "It's not strong enough to do that, geez, homophobe much? All it's going to do is take out the greasy skunk-spray so you don't...uhm...you won't..."

"Fuckin' stink."

"Yeah. Stink."

"Fuck!" he hit the water with a hand, sending a spray of drops arc-ing halfway across the creek. "Burns like _shit_."

"Don't wash out your eyes with creek water. We can do that back at camp with some clean water. " I tossed him the dish soap. "Use this like shampoo."

"How the fuck is Dawn gonna get this shit outta my hair?"

"It takes out grease. They wash the crude oil off the wildlife with this stuff. It'll work. I've used it on my dog before when he got a hold of a skunk. Now stop yakking and get to work. I don't like the way your eyes are looking."

Daryl scrubbed and scrubbed with the dish soap and rinsed until his scalp was pink. I tossed him the bottle of peroxide and instructions to pour it on his hair and scalp, rinsing out the remnants of the skunk spray that the soap didn't get. It was hard to tell if it was any better, the scent of skunk was lingering in the air like an invisible fog. Daryl was turned around, his back to me most of the time. When he turned around finally, I sucked in my breath in shock.

"I know." he said quietly.

"Shit, Daryl. We gotta' get you back to camp." I tossed him a towel and told him I was going to turn my back, that his clothes were over here on the log with a towel for his hair. I backed away still trying not to stare. His eyes were red as fire, puffy and swollen so much that it had to be difficult for him to see. His face was blotchy and swollen as well. He looked miserable. I'm sure he _felt _miserable. I heard splashing and a lot of grunting and the sound of a towel being sluffed over bare skin. I heard him grumbling about "no fuckin' underwear" and had to catch myself to keep from turning around. He coughed when he was done and I saw him sitting on the towel, putting his boots on with no socks. He looked at me slowly from under his down-turned head and I could see how much pain he was in.

"Oh, Daryl." I whispered. "Let's get you back. Leave your stuff. I'll burn your clothes later." There was a bit of protest, which disintegrated when I reminded him there was no way we could ever get the skunk smell out of them, that they were ruined for good. He was lucky his boots didn't take a direct hit...or the Horton. He stumbled uncharacteristically a couple times on the way back to camp. I walked behind him closely and make sure he headed for his tent. I left him there on his own and went to find Dale and some antihistamines to help with the allergic reaction that Daryl was so obviously having. By this time, everyone in camp knew that he'd been skunked, but they were shocked to hear that there was a real problem.

Dale provided me with a bottle of Benedryl pills and a handful of mild antibiotics, in case Daryl had scratched his eyes or rubbed creek-water in them. God knows what was really in that water. I took him some bottled water for rinsing and more for drinking and headed to his tent. In the space of the ten minutes I'd been with Dale at the RV, Daryl's eyes had finished swelling completely shut. He was laying on his mattress, a faded blue towel still draped around his neck. "Hey, it's me." I said softly. "I brought you more stuff."

"I can't fuckin' see." he said. His voice was tight, strained.

"I know. You're having some kind of allergic reaction to that skunk." I said, keeping my voice calm. "It won't last long, I'm sure."

"What tha' fuck' 'm I gonna' do if I can't see?" He sat up and turned his head from side to side.

"It's ok. I brought you some Benedryl to help with the swelling and the itching. First, though, we gotta' rinse your eyes out with clean water, ok? Make sure it's all out of there?" I continued to keep my voice calm to try to get him to relax. I could see by his expression that he was about to lose it. "Daryl. I need you to get off your bed and sit on the ground. I don't want to get your covers wet, ok."

"What 're ya' doin'?"

"You're going to take your shirt off, wrap that towel around your neck, and lean back and let me rinse out your eyes. If we don't make sure they're cleaned out, the swelling and itching will get worse. Ok? I promise I'll go easy."

"Fuck! I hate this shit." he hissed as he felt around with his hands and moved towards the edge of the mattress and on to the ground cloth. He pulled the towel around his shoulders tighter. "I gotta take off my shirt?"

"Not unless you like wet clothes."

"Fuck." Daryl slowly unbuttoned the buttons of the clean shirt and pulled it off unceremoniously, tossing it aside. "Happy now?" he sneered.

"Deliriously. Now shut up and lean your head back. I'm going to be in front of you, ok? I'm going to slowly rinse out your eyes and I may have to try to open them a bit to get water in them. Try not to be a baby, ok. It's just clean water."

"Ain't no fuckin' baby." he snarled. "Do it."

I stood in front of him and put both hands on his shoulders to let him know where I was. His face was crimson and he was sweating a good bit. He flinched as I pushed his still-damp hair back across his forehead. "Shhh. S' ok." I said in a low, slow voice. "Just relax." I put a hand on his forehead and on the back of his neck and slowly tipped his head way back so I could drizzle the water in. Daryl hissed at first but didn't move. I moved the back of my fingers slowly up his jaw to his cheek so he could get used to me touching his face, the stubble scratching lightly. It felt nice, the strong jaw muscles, the whiskers tickling lightly. I put my hand around his eye socket, so puffy and red it hurt to look at, and gently touched his upper lid, separating it from the lower slightly. He had no white to speak of, his eyeball was fire-engine red. "Ok, Baby, this is going to be cool, just try not to move on me. That's it." I purred. "Let that water get all that oil out. You're doing good, doin' good." I kept up the encouragement thinking if he could hear my voice it would keep him calm. At one point when I switched to a new bottle to continue rinsing, he reached his hand out and grabbed at my waist, his fingers clawing through the t-shirt I was wearing. "I'm sorry. Did that hurt?"

"Just wanted to make sure where you were." he said, exhaling.

"I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere until you're fixed up." We started on the other eye. It was in the same shape-swollen shut, irritated and inflamed, red like I've never seen. Daryl's fingers were still on my waist, his head leaned back, sitting cross-legged on the floor while I gently and slowly poured water in his eye and let it run down his cheeks and neck into the now-soaked towel.

I finished and dabbed at his face with a corner of the towel, being careful to miss his eyes. "Ok. All done with that part." I said, patting his shoulder gently. "Now for the Benedryl. There are two of those and there is also one that's an antibiotic, we're going to try to get ahead of any infection that you might start getting."

"Shit! This is _bullshit_!" he railed, pulling off wet towel and tossing it away angrily. "Fuckin' skunk." I could see scars on him. Small ones. Deep ones. All shapes and sizes. I tried not to look, tried not to let him know I'd noticed., not that he could _see _me staring.

"I know. It's a pain in the ass. But you got sprayed good and apparently you're allergic to pole cats." I tried to be calm. "I know it's gotta be scary to not be able to see. If the situation was reversed, trust me, I'd be in your lap. You get a few Benedryls' in your system and things will clear up. Until then, I ain't going nowhere."

"You don't gotta do this."

"I know. I want to. You do a lot for the rest of us. It's the least I can do." I said. I was being sincere. Daryl Dixon, whether he wanted to or not, was growing into the role of leader day by day. You could see it in his stride, in the way he held his shoulders now. From everything he did for Carol in trying to find her daughter, risking his own life, to keeping us fed, to putting aside the anger of what was done to his brother. He was at times the lone voice of reason, saying the obvious when everyone had gone of on tangents. He was the one who came striding out of the trees and remind us "Uh, forest, you dumb-asses."

"Hold out your hand, will ya?" I said, taking his hand and flipping it over to put in the three pills. He popped them into his mouth and swallowed them as I wrapped his now-empty hand around a water bottle. "Now, scoot back, swing to the right and lay down. Those antihistamines will probably make you kinda' drowsy."

"Don't wanna' sleep." he groused. Good lord, please tell me he's not going to be a baby about this. I hate it when men are sick and act like whiny little babies.

"Ok. Then just lay back and relax. Talk to me. Here. Here's your shirt."

"Don't wanna talk." he said, pulling on his shirt and buttoning up buttons quickly.

"Then don't talk. But I'm staying right here to make sure you're ok, so do what you want."

"Suit yourself." he said, putting his hands under his ass to keep from rubbing his eyes. He was quiet for a couple minutes.

"I'm so sorry, Daryl." I said quietly, putting my hand on his lower leg. He flinched again.

"Why're you sorry? You din't do this."

"I know, but I can see how uncomfortable you are. I just feel bad."

"Don't want yer' pity."

"Too fuckin' bad. I feel sorry that this happened to you. You don't gotta like it, they're _my _feelings." I squeezed his leg lightly. "You need to get over yourself. You are not an island. Like it or not, there are others that care about how you are doing."

"Well, they shouldn't." He tried to frown but with all the swelling, he just ended up barely moving his forehead. "Neither should you."

"Seriously. Don't tell me what to feel." I said, smacking his leg lightly. "So tell me about your brother. I wanna' hear about him."

"Merle's...Merle." he said. "Ain't like nobody else I know."

"Is that good or bad?" I asked.

"Lil' a' both." he said. Daryl was leaning back against the pillow now, his fingers pressed together over his chest. "Merle's hard ta' describe."

"Hear he's big. Tough."

"Toughest sombitch I know. Likes to fight. Likes to drink. Likes to..." his voice trailed off and he was quiet for a second. "Don't like a lot a' people, 'specially cops."

"I've heard. He raised you, didn't he?"

"Pretty much."

"How was that?"

"Ok." his voice was a bit tense. "He did his best."

"I'll bet it was hard for him, too."

"Yeah. No money. Our mom was dead. Dad 's in 'n out of jail 'r off wi' tha' girlfriend a' tha' month. Merle did what he had to do."

"Bet he was rough on you. Tried to toughen you up, didn't he?" I pictured the scars on his chest and torso.

"Like I said, he did what he had to do." Daryl crossed his arms over his chest.

"Well, however he did it, it worked. You're the most independent, self-reliant guy I've ever seen." I laughed. Daryl laid there, his face puffy and still fire-red. I could tell I'd hit a nerve. "Daryl, what would you do if Merle came back?" I asked.

"Dunno. Prol'ly get the hell outta here." he shrugged a shoulder and scratched it with his hand. "Merle's gonna' have it out for Rick 'n the others. Hell, he'll probably be pissed at me for not finding him. Don't think it's gonna' be good if he does come back."

"You tried, though. You went back the next morning, right?"

"Yeah. He'd already..." Daryl's voice fell silent.

"I know." I said. "You know, you're not to blame for that, don't you?"

Nothing.

"Daryl. You went back as soon as you could. You tried."

"Don't matter." he shook his head.

"Sure as hell does." I put a bottle of water in his hand. "Drink. Everybody knows you tried."

"Everybody but _him_." he said quietly, taking a sip of water and trying to stifle a yawn. "Jesus."

"Sleepy?"

"Yeah."

"Ok. Take a nap. I'll wake you up in about 4 hours when it's time to take more, ok?"

"Hmm-mmm." he said. Big man vs. two little pills? No contest. He was snoring in no time, head back, mouth open slightly. He looked so _not _Daryl. Almost vulnerable. I looked around the tent. Clean, neat. Nothing setting out but necessities. Quietly exiting, I quickly walked over to Lori and Carol to give them a progress report and back to my tent to pick up my weapon. No way was I going to depend on that crossbow of his if anything did happen tonight. I didn't know why it would, but with Daryl out of commission, I was more than a bit nervous about safety. I took a book with me and decided to read until the light gave out or Daryl woke up, whichever came first. The light went long before Daryl woke up.


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you all for your comments! You keep 'em coming and so will I! _

_Special note to Lola: Aw, that was incredibly sweet and I'm sorry about the itchies. _

_And ReadingintheDark: Hmmm...Very interesting!  
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_**Odeur de Dixon**_

_**Part 2**_

Daryl was stirring. It was about eight o'clock. I'd let him sleep a little longer than I probably should have, but he was sleeping soundly it seemed like a shame to wake him up to take a pill. I knelt next to him and put my hand on his arm and shook lightly.

"Daryl. Wake up. Time for more Benedryl." I said softly.

He bolted upright, reaching wildly for something, patting the covers and stretching out his arms and hands. "I can't see. I can't see a fuckin' thing!" he said, exasperated.

"Daryl. _Daryl_." I grabbed his hands. "Your eyes are swollen up. Calm down."

"Don't fuckin' tell me ta' calm down, I can't _see_!"

I tugged on his hands and moved nearer. "Sweetie. The skunk sprayed you. Your eyes swelled shut. Remember? You've been sleeping. It's ok." I wiggled his hands. "There's only a little candle lantern in here anyway. I can't see much either."

"Shit."

"Remember now?" I said. I dropped one of his hands and ran my hand across his forehead, half to calm him, half to see if he had any fever. He laid back down against the pillows.

"Yeah. Fuckin' skunk."

I managed to get some dinner into him and a couple more antihistamines while he griped about not being able to see, how bad the skunk smelled, and ruining a shirt and a "good" pair of pants. It was hard to tell if there was any change in his eyes in the dim light of the tiny little candle. He agreed that his eyes didn't itch or burn as much as earlier, but he was still very agitated that they were so swollen and he couldn't see.

"I know. I'd be a little unnerved too. It's ok. I got us covered. Ain't nothin' gonna' bother us."

"Ya' ain't plannin' on usin' _my _weapon!" he said, turning his head in the direction of my voice.

"_Hell _no! I wouldn't touch that thing. You'd have my ass. I went and got my .44 while you were sleeping."

"Lotta' gun for a lil' girl." he half-grinned.

"Speak softly and carry a big-ass gun. That's my motto." I said, laughing. "So how did you come by that Horton, anyway."

"Merle got it for me. Had it for a bit. Lots of power, don't weight much at all 'n it's real quiet."

"Yeah. Sure is. You're a good shot. What did you learn to hunt with?"

He smiled again. "Merle's old shotgun. .310. Had ta' be good or starve sometimes."

"You didn't have it easy growing up, did you?" I said, quietly. Daryl was silent again. "It's ok. I didn't either. My folks were too busy tryin' to kill each other to pay attention to us kids." I heard a slight huff and he nodded his head slowly. "You gettin' sleepy again?"

"Don't wanna' sleep." he moaned.

"Yeah, that's what you said the last time and you were out for hours. Tell you what. You take a nap and I'll sit right here.

"When 're ya' gonna' sleep?"

"When you get better." Daryl put his thumbnail to his mouth, a sure sign that he was uncomfortable. "Stop it. I know what you're thinking. Just go to sleep."

"_What _am I thinkin'?"

"You're uncomfortable that I'm here. You don't like anybody to make a fuss, let alone hover over you. You're kicking yourself in the ass for letting that skunk spray you and embarrassed as hell that you found out the hard way that you're allergic to them. You're out of your comfort zone because you can't see and you're not able to take care of yourself and you gotta depend on me to watch out for you tonight and that makes you frustrated as fuck that actually gotta count on somebody else for once. There. 's pretty much sum up that what you're thinking?"

Daryl pouted visibly. "Where'd you get yer' fuckin' degree, Dr. Phil?"

"University of Life. School of Hard Knocks." I said with an edge to my voice. "Look. This _has _to be hard for you. I know it. If you want me to leave, I'm sure Dale will make room on the floor of his RV for you."

"No."

"No what?"

"Stay. I ain't goin' to no RV."

"Well, I guess I'm the lesser of two evils, then." Daryl shook his head and licked his lips, opening them to say something. He stopped before he got the first word out. He pressed them together quickly, like he was stopping the words from coming out. I leaned over and put my hand on top of the one that was resting on his stomach. "It's ok. Tell me."

"Helpless." is all he could manage. He screwed his mouth up tight and turned his head away. I squeezed his hand and didn't say anything until he drifted off to an antihistamine-induced sleep.

About midnight, he started to get restless again. I roused him and gave him some water and was able to get a good look at his face, thanks to Rick bringing over a decent flashlight. It didn't look quite as red and his eyes weren't as puffy, but he still couldn't open them. To my surprise, he was in a talkative mood now. I'd never met chatty-Daryl before. It was, in a word, weird. I chalked it up to medicine and listened as he told me about growing up with Merle, leaving out most of the bad stuff, of course, school, jobs, and every other thing he could think of. It was really touching that he wanted to share so much, but I couldn't help be sad thinking if this hadn't happened, he wouldn't think of talking to me like this. I listened patiently and quietly, making sure to say "uh-huh" and "and then" a lot so he knew I was listening since he couldn't pick up on any visual cues like nodding my head or looking into his eyes.

He didn't seem to be getting sleepy at all this round. He professed not to be hungry either, but I found a couple candy bars and he wolfed them down pretty quickly. Between bites finishing the second one, he asked where I was going to sleep. I explained that I had brought a blanket in and was planning to camp out by the door.

"No." was all he said.

"No?" I repeated.

"No. "H' ere." he said, belching.

"No." Now it was my turn.

"Not by the door."

"I have yet to see a walker manage a zipper."

"Ain't walkers I'm worried about."

"What?"

"God knows who's out there."

"You worried about somebody specific, or just in general."

"Both." he frowned. For the first time in hours, I was able to see his forehead move and his eyebrows narrow.

"Ok, you're kinda' scaring me. How about if I just sit here where I am?" I said.

He nodded and scooted down on the pillow. "Stay away from the door." he said, crossing his ankles and putting his arms behind his head. I stretched and pulled the old comforter up from it's resting place and curled up on it on my side, keeping an eye on him. As soon as I heard Daryl snoring lightly, I relaxed and put my head down, dropping off quickly.

The next morning, I awoke feeling a heaviness on my legs. It was Daryl's leg. He had moved to the side of his mattress and thrown a leg over mine as I lay on my stomach, facing away from him. Swiveling my head to look at him, he was laying on his side, arm under his head, top arm half off the mattress towards me, leg thrown over and across both my legs. I could get a really good look at his face now. It was almost back to normal. Still puffy around the eyes but otherwise the old Daryl was back. He must have heard me thinking because he opened his eyes slowly, blinking and looking up and down. He gave me a sheepish grin and started to rub his eyes with his hand, which I promptly slapped away.

"the HELL?" he frowned.

"Get that hand away from your eyes!" I said, louder than I'd intended. "You wanna get an infection?"

"You wanna get a smack on tha' ass?" he said, moving his leg and setting back up on his knees. I rolled over and sat up facing him. I really hadn't give much thought to things last night because of what he was going through. Now I was uncomfortably aware that I was alone in a tent with Daryl Dixon.

"Not particularly." I said, quietly. "You look much better today. How do you feel?"

"Ok."

"Groggy?"

"No. Thirsty."

"That's the antihistamines. They're drying you out, literally. You need to get some breakfast and take one more dose and then keep drinking water." I started to fold up the comforter and put on my boots. "So, you gonna be ok then?"

"Yeah." Daryl said, rubbing his upper arm. He was looking towards the door.

"I know. I'm outta here." I said. I stood up and moved towards the door and Daryl stood up with me.

"I..." he started to say something and I turned around. "Thanks." he said quietly, his head down, arms folded across his chest. "Don't know how to repay ya'."

"Daryl, you don't need to repay me. Is that what you think? I did this so you'd owe me something?" I was stunned. "

"Why else?" he shrugged. He looked up at me, his chin tucked down.

"Because it was the right thing to do? Because you needed help? Because I _wanted _to?"

He looked down at his feet and bit his bottom lip, jamming his hands in his pockets. He looked adorably pathetic, eyes still red and puffy, hair disheveled, clothing rumpled, bare feet. Little boy lost. I wanted to hug him right then and there, but I knew better. He was uncomfortable as hell right now. I knew better than to push it.

"Daryl. This is what people do. They help each other. Without keeping score. We have to take care of each other, now more than ever." I said quietly."

He nodded his head. "Just..." he sighed deeply "Thanks."

"You're welcome." I said, smiling as I left the tent.

XXXXX

Daryl walked up behind me as I put the wood into the cart. "Hey." I said, turning around and pulling my gloves off. "Come to help?"

"No." he said, stopping about three feet from me. "Came ta' ask ya' somethin'."

"Shoot." I shrugged.

"Why did ya' want ta' help me?"

Didn't see that one coming. "You mean when you...the skunk...your..." I made a gesture around my eyes. "I don't know."

"I ain't been p'ticular nice ta' ya'."

"No. But then, you've not been particularly mean either."

"Hardly talk ta' ya'."

"Nope." I shook my head. "You don't." I continued to load the split wood into the cart.

"Does 'at bother ya'?"

"I don't know, Daryl. I know _how _you got that way. I know _why _you stay that way. But yeah, it kinda' bothers me because I don't think you want to _be _that way."

He looked at me and halved the distance between us, leaning his crossbow against the side of the cart. "Whatda' ya' mean?"

"I mean, I think you want to be like everybody else. You want to be a part of a group, but you're afraid they're not going to let you in, so you keep yourself walled off. At arm's length. You insulate yourself because that way rejection won't hurt as much."

Daryl took a couple more steps forward, effectively trapping me between the long wooden handles of the cart. I looked at him. He was holding his breath, staring at me like he was trying to decipher a language in a book printed in a foreign language, his blue eyes dark, burning into me. I could feel the anxiety in him, straining to get out, him holding it back for fear of it breaking like a dam. He took another step towards me, hesitating. He was so close. My bottom lip twitched and I closed the gap and put my hand on his chest. I looked at his eyes and nodded slowly as his arms shot out and went around me forcefully as he pulled me to him. Our foreheads together, I closed my eyes and pulled my arms up, wrapping them around his neck.

Daryl hesitated for a second and then turned his head slightly and kissed me, his lips brushing mine lightly, gingerly, like he was feeling me out, unsure of himself. Gauging my reaction. He became more steady, his rough lips moving on mine, increasing the pressure, the movements becoming more urgent. His hands moved up and down the sides of my back slowly at first, his fingers kneading my flesh in time with the steady movements of his kisses, opening and closing harder with each passing second, mirroring the way his mouth moved on mine. It was hard to breathe, between the way he was holding me so tightly and the sheer excitement I was feeling.

At some point, I opened my mouth enough for him to slide his tongue in and the first touch of his warmth, the slow meandering of his tongue on mine, it was like the rest of the world was a curtain around us that had just fallen to the ground and we were there, just the two of us. Nothing else. No walkers, no death, no light or dark, the rest of the world was in a heap with the curtain, it was only us.

Daryl had one hand on the back of my neck and the other on my back, arching me slightly backwards, pressing into him. He stopped long enough for us to be conscious of a sound behind him. A very small "ahem" from a very embarrassed little boy in a very big brown hat. Daryl loosened his grip and we both turned to Carl, me wiping the corner of my mouth a bit.

"My Dad would like to talk to Daryl...as soon as possible...so, I, uh..."

"Ok, Carl. Thank you, Buddy." I said, my hand on the small of Daryl's back. Carl looked at Daryl and grinned and turned to run back towards camp. Daryl turned back to me. "You need to go." I said. It was half a statement and half a question.

"I ain't his..." Daryl caught himself.

"No, you're not. But it could be important. Go on. I'm almost done here." Daryl frowned.

"I wasn't." he said with an edge to his voice.

"Oh." I smiled. I handed him his crossbow carefully. "There's always later." He walked off without saying anything more, just turned around and looked, walking backwards briefly, then turned around again. I returned to the wood, wondering what later might bring.

XXXXX

I exhaled quietly and let the flood of feelings wash over me like a wave at the beach. Every inch of me was warm, soothed. Every cell bathed in a euphoric mix of contented pleasure and mind-numbing physical satisfaction. Afterglow. My mind drifted like a yellow autumn leaf on a lazy river of endorphins. Judging from the sounds, Daryl had done some drifting himself, although apparently, his rived had carried him to Dreamland.

I closed my eyes and smiled, trying to remember the past hour, bits and pieces floating by in a haze. I remember his lips on mine, his hands pulling me into his tent in the darkness. I remember the desperation in his eyes struggling with a stubborn hook and eye and the little triumphant chuckle in his voice when it gave way and he pulled the bra off and threw it, frustrated, against the side of the tent with a soft thump. I remember the gasp when he rolled me over, seeing me naked for the first time, and the way his mouth formed a little "o" and then how the side of his mouth curled up in the most evil of grins as he reached for the elastic waistband of my underwear.

Daryl never struck me as the type to have had a lot of girlfriends, something he confirmed during one of our antihistamine-driven chats, but he surprised me with his attentiveness and sheer...skills. At one point, I remember burying my head in his pillow to keep from screaming and alarming the rest of the camp. I had visions of me having to stop moaning long enough to try to choke out the words "No, Rick, everything's fine. I'm not being devoured by _a walker_." I also remember thinking that if the rest of the women in camp had any clue about ol' Daryl, I would have to start carrying a gun all the time. A flutter deep inside rose and fell like a wave of memory.

I moved my head slightly and felt the warmth of his muscled chest against my cheek. Tickle-y hairs and sticky, damp skin. His arm heavy across the small of my back, the other hand cupping around a breast, his leg wrapped around both of mine, capturing me, holding on like he was afraid I was going to try to flee. As if. I never figured him as a snuggler, but then there were a lot of things with Daryl I took for granted that I shouldn't have.

I remember watching his eyes and the expressions on his face as he moved inside me. His brow was furrowed, lips pressed together in concentration, singularly focused, and then he closed his eyes and threw his head back, a low growl sound escaping from his now-parted lips like a demon being freed. He relaxed and his face changed to a look of blissful calm. He had surrendered to the moment, I told myself. I remember how his eyes looked, crystal-clear and deep electric blue, the hooded lids heavy, a fringe of dark lashes. The little mouse under his right eye. How they were locked on mine, unblinking, as we finished almost together, how they changed at that moment, softer, crinkling at the corner when he smiled briefly, allowing himself the self-satisfaction, however fleeting, of knowing that he'd just made a woman damn near cry with joy.

I inhaled deep and opened my eyes to watch his chest rise and fall, breathing in the heavy scent that I would come to recognize instantly, to seek out at times, to accept as my own soothing pacifier. Daryl's scent. Sweat, moss, clay-heavy soil, stale cigarettes, leather and sometimes bourbon. The personification of masculine, a heady scent that simultaneously comforted me and stirred things from within. I smiled at the thought that it was a much different scent that started us down this road.

Hands squeezed in tender places, letting me know he was awake. I assumed that this would be the part were he would make it clear that a sleep-over was not the intended outcome and I was welcome to leave, instead, he pulled up the faded blanket and made small adjustments in our positions. He caught me smiling at him.

"What?" he said quizzically.

I shook my head. "Just thinkin'." He frowned briefly, his brows flinching quickly. "About that skunk."

"Dead skunk if I ever find 'em."

"Don't. He was just defending himself the only way he knew how."

"Yeah, and look where it got me." he said.

"Yeah. But Daryl, look where it got _me_." I smiled and pulled the covers back inch by inch, my eyes not leaving his.

He looked down finally, his tongue running unconsciously across his bottom lip. "Damn." he said slowly shaking his head. "I owe that lil' fucker."


End file.
